Deepest secrets
by viktriap
Summary: The VCTF Team works on a new and very strange case. Three victims, a haunted house and a crazy woman. Is there something paranormal or only a very cunning serial killer?
1. Default Chapter

Chapter one

In Grace's opinion this has been their worst case ever. It was so hot that you couldn't breathe normally and it seemed as if everything stopped in the unmoving air. The outskirt where the murders were committed was gloomy and raffish. It was obvious that only the poorest families of the town lived in this area.

The whole case was somehow creepy. There have been three victims so far, all were found in a dilapidated house and their hearts were practically ripped out. The local coroner couldn't find out what kind of weapon was used, only that it was something dull and surely not a knife. The first victim was a tramp who probably wanted to spend the night in the house. The second was a 14-years old boy – why he was in the house nobody knew, and the third was a police officer who was left in charge to guard the house.

The only connection between the dead-cases was this house. Nothing else. Or so it seemed until now but of course the local police didn't have a profiler like Sam.

Grace sighed. They were at the scene now and she didn't really have anything to do as the last body was already taken to morgue. The last murder happened yesterday and in this heat they couldn't leave a body in the open so long. So, while the others were doing their jobs, she found a shady place and just watched them.

Bailey and Sam were talking to the local detective in charge in front of the house. Sam was wearing only a sleeveless top and she was steadily fanning herself with a rolled magazine. Bailey on the other hand was immaculately elegant in his suit as ever, though he chose a lighter color this time.

Grace suddenly sighted John coming out frombehind the house. He was everything but immaculate. His jacket had been dropped down on the porch earlier, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and he loosened his tie. Their youngest workmate joined the others at the porch and Grace sighed again. She pulled herself together and walked to them as well.

"Have you found anything?" was Bailey just asking.

"Yeah" John answered. "I found some traces in the backyard. One is from the first victim I think, the second from the boy, he jumped over the fence and went in through the basement door. It has only a rusty lock on it and it has been broken recently. The officer stayed on the porch, didn't he?"

"Yes" the local detective, named Jack Warren, answered.

"I didn't find any other traces, so I guess the murderer used the front door or some of the windows here" John finished.

"You should take photos of the onlookers" put in Sam. "I think this guy is obsessed with this house. We're lookingfor somebody who has a connection to the building, maybe lived here or in the neighborhood and something traumatic happened to him."

"It won't be easy" said Detective Warren. "People move in and out in this area and this house is more than 200 years old. Nobody stayed here long, they say it's haunted" he added almost apologetically.

"I think every area has a legend like this" said Bailey. "I'll call George to do a research on this house."

"I'll take a look around inside" said Sam. "John?"

The agent was watching the small crowd that gathered and watched the investigation.

"I'll chat with those boys over there" he replied and nodded at the three teenagers who were standing on the pavement on the opposite side. "I have a clue what that boy might have done in here."

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"Hi, boys!" the children jerked their heads up like frightened birds. "Agent Grant. FBI."

Only for effect he flashed his badge. Probably it made him even more impressive that without his jacket they could clearly see his holster and his gun in it. Their eyes if possible went even wider.

"Did you know Tommy Felton?" he asked.

"Y-yes" stuttered one of them, probably the bravest.

"What's your name?"

"Brian."

"Was he your friend, Brian?"

"Not really. We went to the same class."

"I see. Tommy wasn't very popular, was he?" It was enough to take a look at his photo. The poor boy had glasses and a lot of freckles and he was rather skinny: in one word the typical looser.

"Er… no, he wasn't."

"Don't you know by any chance what he was doing here so late in the evening?"

"Why would we know?"

"I was just asking. It's my job, you know, to ask questions. Are you interested in the investigation?"

This sudden change in topic obviously surprised the boys.

"Everybody is interested, I think…" shrugged Brian who was the mouthpiece in the small group.

"I don't see many children here around" said John looking around. "Detective Warren said there's some kind of festival in town. Why aren't you there?"

The boy just shrugged again.

"You know, I have a theory" John said casually. "I think that Tommy went in the house to prove his courage to somebody. I also think that that this somebody feels a little bit guilty now about what happened to him. Maybe _this somebody_ was nagging Tommy to do it…"

"We didn't want him to get hurt!" exclaimed one of the other boys and Brian glared at him. But John could see that he was on the verge of tears himself. He suddenly looked up at John.

"Will we be closed in prison?" he asked quietly.

"Why would you be?" he smiled encouragingly. "How could you have known that this would happen? It wasn't your fault but you have to tell me everything so that we can catch the murderer. You were here with him, right?"

"We didn't go in with him. Frankie here" and he waved at his smallest companion "lives in the second house behind the haunted one. We were there camping in the garden and Tommy came along. He was walking down the street and we were bored and so we thought it would be funny to play a… you know … a prank on him. We told him he wouldn't dare to go in the house. He said he would. So we climbed into Mrs. Hofstatter's garden and he then jumped over the fence and vanished. We looked through a hole until he went down to the basement door."

"When did this happen?"

Brian looked at his friends and the smallest – Frankie – answered.

"At about nine."

"And then, what happened?"

"Then there was nothing for a while. But suddenly… somebody screamed…. It was like in a horror-movie or so…"

"And you?"

Brian looked at his shoes as if they were much more interesting than anything else in the street.

"We ran away" he admitted quietly. "We didn't even sleep in the tent. But we didn't dare to tell anybody… even after… you know…

"Yes. I'm glad you told it now. I talk to Detective Warren and you have to repeat this at the police station. And don't be afraid, nothing will happen to you. You are not guilty in what happened to Tommy. Even if you hadn't ran away you couldn't have saved him."

All three boys nodded hesitantly and then Frankie asked:

"You will tell our parents what happened?" he became even paler than before and John saw something painfully familiar in his eyes.

"We don't have to tell them precisely what happened" he said and smiled at the boy. "I'll ask Detective Warren not to tell everything. We could tell them that you heard something while you were in the garden. Is it okay so?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

"All right, then. And thank you again for your help."

He started to walk back to the others when somebody touched his shoulder from behind. He turned around and saw a young woman or rather a girl whoabout twenty, hadruffled long hair and was wearingdirty jeans and despite of the hot temperature a sweater. She looked almost like a waif, she was short and very thin, her clothes were hanging loosely on her.

"You are with the FBI?" she asked.

"Yes, I am. Can I help you?" he asked with not much enthusiasm.

The girl obviously wasn't one hundred percents. Her eyes had sucha distant quality thatJohn had a feeling that she wasn't really seeing him and her left hand was constantly playing with the edge of her sweater that was already frayed.

"I… I saw what happened in the house… I saw the murderer…" she started slowly.

"Really?" John asked back a little bit skeptically.

"Yes, but the police didn't want to listen. Just like that old man and all the others. I told everybody not to go into the house but nobody listened… they never listen" her words quickly turned into a sputter.

_Why am I not surprised? _John thought, but instead he asked:

"Why shouldn't they go inside?"

"Because of the ghost… he doesn't allow it…"

"The ghost?"

"Yes, I saw him. He killed the old man. I didn't see when he killed the boy but it must have been him."

_Great… _But maybe she could have seen something despite her obvious craziness. John couldn't decide yet if the woman was mad or just a junky pumped full with something but he couldn't allow himself to not follow a trace, even if it seemed to be hopeless.

"And could you describe … this ghost?"

"Of course. But it won't help you that much, you should close down the house and forbid for everybody to go in. It would be even better if it would be demolished then he couldn't stay here anymore."

"I don't know much about it, but maybe we can ask an expert later" John cut in. "I'll bring a drawer and we do a picture of the ghost, if it's okay with you." The girl nodded, but her eyes were focusing on the haunted house. "Do you live somewhere near here?"

"Yes, I live just down there" she indicated at a house on the opposite side, that didn't look much better than the one the murders were committed in.

"Thank you. I'll visit you later then, okay?"

The girl didn't answer but watched the house with fearful eyes, playing with her hair this time instead of her sweater.

_Just great, another few hours waste of time! _John thought, but on the other hand he knew that sometimes the most stupid traces turned out to be the most useful ones so you could never know.

Without another word – as his _witness _was obviously in her own world – he walked back to the house, where he found only Grace outside.

"Why is it that I always catch the nutcases?" he asked.

"Maybe they see the soul-mate in you" Grace answered with a broad smile.

"This was only a poetic question, but thank you very much. Have you seen Bailey?"

"He went inside after Sam."

"Well, then I'll go as well. Maybe I can meet a wandering spirit in there…"

"A what?"

"Never mind. Don't you want to join me?"

"No, thanks, I'm just waiting for an officer to take me to the coroner's office. So at least I can do something useful. And maybe there's an air-conditioner, there!" she added wishfully.

"Have a nice necrotomy then!" John said wickedly and with three long steps he vanished in the house.

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6


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

The house seemed to be much bigger now that she was inside. It had at least fifteen rooms on three stairs. Bailey chose to take a look at the basement and Sam was on the first floor at the moment.

An eerie feeling radiated from the building: the feeling of disuse and old memories. As Sam always had the gift to see the happenings behind the objects and places she could almost imagine those times when the house was full of life. There were even bequeathed pieces of furniture in some of the rooms. On old couch that was probably occupied by mice, a chest of drawers that might be an antiquity but one of its branches was missing. Even the curtains were up in one of the rooms.

Sam walked around slowly, peeping into every room and trying to absorb the spirit of the place. The murderer must have a special connection to this house, so it seemed important to find out why it could be so attractive.

The last room on the corridor was almost heavy-laden compared to the other ones. It was probably used as a study in the past, as there was a desk in the left corner in a surprisingly good condition. There were two chairs – one with two missing legs – and an open fire that has been used recently. Sam realized that it must have been the tramp who lit a fire here and he probably used the pieces from the chair.

She walked inside and checked the desk. In the first two drawers there was only dust. Then she opened the third one … and jumped back gasping for air and almost screamed out but kept herself from it in the last moment.

There was a dead rat in the drawer.

"Shit!" she said out loud. "It's just a rat…"

But she hated rats and this one has been clearly dead for a few days. It was smelling and looked disgusting. Its dead eyes were looking exactly at her…

_Don't be silly, Samantha! _She told herself and pushed back the drawer, the whole time staying as far away as possible.

The next moment the door behind her slammed with a loud bang and she jumped again. The eerie feeling came back with double force. The air in the room seemed to be choking, with a few long steps she rushed to the door.

She turned the knob but the door didn't open. The second time she pushed it a little bit as well but nothing happened. _Great! I hope we will need a locksmith to open this old door… _She studied the lock closer and to her surprise it wasn't rusty at all, considering the state of other parts of the house it looked rather new.

Suddenly she had a strange feeling. She knew it was stupid but she felt as if there were somebody else in the room. As if somebody was watching her from behind. She turned and her hand somehow found her way to her gun. However she was alone she was still happy that she didn't pull it out… she would have felt stupid aiming a gun at an empty room.

She shivered and saw goose bumps on her arm. It felt as if the temperature had sunk a few grades in the room. Or was it just because of her nerves?

Suddenly Detective Warren's words came to her mind: _They say that the house is haunted…_ Stupid idea. She didn't believe in such things… but the cold ran down her spine… She quickly turned back to the door and tried it harder, in a second she was already tugging at it.

_Oh, damn!_ She might feel stupid later but…

"Help!" she cried out. "Is somebody out there? Bailey?"

She heard running footsteps and then in a second the door opened and she came face to face with a concerned-looking John Grant who aimed his gun at her.

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John walked inside the dusky house after he said his good-bye to Grace and looked around in the room that was obviously some kind of hall.

"It's really spooky!" he whispered to himself and smiled.

Stairs went upstairs and downstairs from the hall and he could make out footprints in the dust that covered the floor. There were many of them, but the crime scene investigators used a good limited trail so that they didn't ruin the other traces as it was the routine. So he could easily see that Sam went upstairs and Bailey went to the basement.

Seeing this, he decided to look around downstairs.

The first room he looked in was a kitchen, the second maybe a living room, and then came some smaller rooms. In the first few minutes he didn't find anything interesting but then he glimpsed something on the floor.

The object looked like book, or rather some kind of album and it was strange to see something like this in a desolated house. And why didn't the crime scene investigators take it with them? He would have a few words with Detective Warren later… The book was quite heavy and when he opened it he saw that it was an album indeed.

There were photos in it like in a normal photo-album. Most of the photos were taken of the house, from different perspectives. On some of them, there were also people. On the further pages there were some clippings from newspapers of different time periods. A woman in clothes that reminded John of the 18th century, then on the next page was the picture of a young soldier in a World War II uniform. An article of a fire and an other one of a festival in the town. Then a modern photo and John almost dropped the album because it showed the boy who he talked only ten minutes ago – Brian. He wore a baseball-cup and smiled in the camera.

"Help!"

This time he really dropped the book. The voice came from upstairs and it definitely belonged to Sam. He took three stairs at once and on the way he pulled out his gun. She sounded as if she were in panic. But the murderer couldn't be in the house, could he? The area was full of cops!

He looked around on the corridor on the second floor and found that there was only one room whose door was closed so he headed for it.

John opened the door and aimed at the person inside but lowered the weapon immediately as only Sam was in there.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I… couldn't open the door. It was stuck or something…" she seemed to be out of breath.

"Oh…"

She quickly stepped out and watched as John closed the door and opened it again without any effort.

"It seems to work fine…" he said.

"But it didn't before… or maybe I was too nervous" she smiled shyly. "I found a dead rat in there."

John frowned.

"I found something more interesting. Come, it's downstairs."

They went down again and John showed the way to the room where he left the book. Then he stopped so suddenly that Sam ran into him from behind.

"What…?" she asked when she saw that John pulled out his gun again.

"I left it just here, on the floor" he said pointing at the empty space in front of them and Sam understood instantly what he meant so she pulled out her weapon as well.

The next moment they heard some moving from the hall. John went into action immediately and Sam followed him of course. They rushed out into the hall where they saw something they only rarely had the chance to see…

Bailey stood there stunned and if not scared than something very close to it.

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Sam and Bailey departed in the hall, the profiler went upstairs and Bailey made his way into the basement. He had a flashlight and he switched it on as soon as he started down the stairs. The basement was big, almost as big as the house itself and it was more than filthy. Due to Detective Warren they didn't have enough sources to search it thoroughly so just for security he freed his gun-stock. He didn't suspect the murderer to still be here but he learned a long time ago that one could never be careful enough.

He frowned when he saw a fat rat running along the wall. _Where can they get enough food if nobody has lived here for years? _he wondered.

The basement was even more run-down and empty than other parts of the house. And it was definitely darker here. He found this out for sure when the next moment the light of his torch went out.

"Shit…"

He thought that they just got new ones but of course with the budget of the team it wasn't a big surprise that they got rubbish.

He started to turn back to the stairs as it was no use to search the rooms with no light. Then, though he glimpsed something from the corner of his eyes. It seemed as if some dim light were coming from the end of the room he was in. He went closer and almost crashed into the wall… the light definitely came from _behind_ the wall!

Secret rooms weren't so rare in older houses, he realized. So, he started to search the wall. Nothing. He already wanted to give up, when he felt one brick move under his touch. He pushed it harder and it fell down on the other side of the wall with a loud bang. So there was some kind of hole on the other side!

He didn't want to leave anymore instead he looked for something that he could enlarge the gap with. Soon he found a rather rusty-looking iron rod and carefully so that he wouldn't hurt himself he started to work on the bricks.

The wall must have been kept together only by fortune because unexpectedly the whole wall cracked and then without warning something heavy fell out on him, tackling him to the ground.

"Oh, hell…" he cursed involuntary when he looked in the grinning face of a human skeleton.

Then he felt nauseated when he saw that it wasn't really a clean one. There were still some sticky and slimy pieces of something on the bones.

He pushed the thing down and stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. He stepped closer to the hole and then stopped in mid-step. The light that made him aware of the room came from a candle that was halfway burnt down.

_But how is this possible? _

Suddenly the darkness of the place struck him with full force. Anybody could be hiding down here…

Moving from the corner… he spun around pulling out his gun at the same time. He felt the rush of adrenaline running through his system. The fat rat – or its close relative – jogged out of the corner and froze when glimpsed the human intruder. And ran when one more brick fell to the floor and made the aforementioned human jump.

Bailey didn't feel like turning his back to the dark basement but to go out he needed to do it. So slowly, listening to every single suspicious noise he started in the direction of the stairs.

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5


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam was standing in front of the house again. She felt that she needed some fresh air after her short visit in the basement. Bailey was still down there with the crime scene investigators who were back here again. John was searching through the whole house looking for that book he found and maybe for the intruder that they suspected in the building.

Soon some officers came out with a black bag that obviously hid the corpse. Bailey was with them and he stepped to Sam.

"You should go back to the police station! Ask Grace if she found out anything and she should also examine this corpse."

"All right, but I'd like to talk to John first."

Actually, she had a bad feeling about the house and wanted to see him coming out. She didn't have to wait long because in a few minutes John appeared in the front-door, cursing under his nose.

"I guess you didn't find anything!" Bailey said.

"I can't understand this. I saw that album…"

"I'll ask the CSI's to go over the house again. The drawer arrived, by the way" Bailey nodded at a middle-aged man standing next to a police-car.

"Then I'll go and talk to _my witness" _he didn't sound very enthusiastic about it.

"Okay, I'll find out if there's a software at the police that can reconstruct the face of our skeleton-friend" said Bailey and they departed and everybody went on the job at hand.

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John stopped in front of the house the crazy woman said would be hers. Only one half of the house seemed to be livable, the garden was neglected, almost like a jungle and in the garden a man was sitting in a folding chair. He perfectly fit in the milieu: he was wearing only an undervest and jeans that were everything but clean, had a beard and long, greasy hair.

"Excuse me, sir…"

The man looked up and frowned.

"What do you want?" he asked in an almost hostile tone.

"John Grant, FBI" and he showed his badge. "I'm looking for a young woman, who said that she lived here."

"What did she do this time?"

"Nothing, sir. I'd like to speak with her about the murders that happened in the street."

"She told you her ghost-story, right?" without waiting for an answer he continued. "She's totally crazy, you shouldn't listen to her… but come in…" he added then indifferently.

He didn't even stand up to greet his visitor.

John opened the creaking garden-gate and stepped into the neglected garden.

"Where…?" he couldn't finish the question because the man shouted.

"Val! Come here! You have a visitor!"

"Thanks" John said dryly.

The girl appeared instantly in the house-door but there she stopped. She still wore the worn-out pullover but her hair was a little bit more ordered, she bid it into a pony-tail.

"Can we talk now?" John asked.

The girl glimpsed at the man who just shrugged.

"Come in!" she said and stepped aside to let him in.

John was led in a kitchen that was almost as ratty as the garden and it was very hot in there.

"I have to ask you a few administrative questions first" he took out his notepad to write down the necessary information.

"O.K. I know how this goes…" the girl said and leaned against the counter.

"All right then! What's your name?" John just stayed standing in the middle of the kitchen as none of the chairs seemed to be stable enough.

"Valerie Barker."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

Actually she looked younger to John. She would perfectly fit in a high-school class… in a different outfit of course!

"And the man outside? Is he your father?"

"No way!" she answered with a shocked expression. "He's my uncle. He's… he's not very nice…" Then she looked at John worriedly. Actually this was the first time that she looked him in the eyes. "Was he rude to you?"

"Don't worry!" he answered smiling. "I can handle a little rudeness. How long have you been living here?"

"Six months or so… I didn't want to move in here but Uncle Phil inherited this house and we didn't have anywhere else to go after we had to leave the circus…" she spoke quickly.

"You worked for a circus?"

"Yes, we traveled with a… you know … traveling circus. Uncle Phil is a magician" she added then in a mysterious tone.

"Really?" The man outside didn't look like an artist at all.

"Yes and he was really good before he started to… you know…" she imitated drinking. "I helped during the performances."

"What was the name of the circus?"

"The last one we worked at was called the "Magical Caravan"… Stupid name, if you ask me… don't you think so?"

"Yeah, quite. So, can you tell me in details what you know about the murders?"

She became more excited in an instant.

"I was walking outside and heard the screaming. It…it can be often heard f…from _that_ house, I just wanted to have a look… so I went into the backyard and searched for a window. I've been there often but I never went inside because he told me not to go in... The old man was in the salon. He was very scared from the ghost. It was there and it was hovering over the ground and pushed the old man to the wall. Then… it dipped …dipped into … his chest and … and " her words became more and more dim for John in every sense. She was gabbling quicker and quicker and started spacing in the small kitchen. "It tore out his heart… but the heart was still beating and the old man was still alive… and then it… it… turned and…and… looked at me…"

John knew that he had to treat her carefully.

"Sorry, but I have to ask this: are you sure that the murderer was a ghost?"

"Yes. Could you imagine anybody else hovering over the ground?" she asked back rationally.

"Eh…No. Look… could you show me where and how exactly this happened?"

"Of course, of course... But you can ask the question steady on!"

"Which question?"

"I know that you think me mad… and you're probably right…" her right hand found its way to her hair and she was pulling at it. "I have paper about it, after all, you know…" she changed back to her less agitated tone - not as if this way she didn't sound agitated – and she smiled slightly.

"You were treated in a hospital?"

"Hospital? I'd rather call it a nuthouse. They say I'm schizophrenic…" she added almost proudly. "I'm under guardianship... Uncle Phil used to be my guardian but he didn't take me to the sessions so now I have one from the social service, Miss Dillan... she visits every Monday and every Thursday she takes me to Doctor Stevenson. She also brings my medicine by and counts the pills every time she's here..."

"I see. So it's possible" he asked carefully "that you didn't see what you think you saw…"

"I … took my pills that evening" she obviously tried to make a good impression. "I don't take them every day, which is wrong due to my doctor, but that day I did take them… and I know… usually … when I'm hallucinating… real people are often blurry at the edges you know... my hallucinations seem to be more...real than the real people…"

"Am I blurry to you too?" John asked while he tried to make some sense of what the girl was telling him.

"I can't really explain it... it's just like a light... around you..."

"All right, it's not that important, let's get back to the murders. So, you think you could show me how that old man was killed?"

"Yes... his name was Joe..."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes, I saw him that night on the street and told him not to sleep in the house but he didn't listen to me..."

"And you could describe the murderer? I mean the ghost?"

"Yes, but you can call him a murderer if you want..."

"Thank you. Won't your uncle mind if you come with me?"

"He isn't very interested in where I'm going but he doesn't like police officers very much."

"Yes, I realized that much."

"To tell the truth he doesn't like others either. He always shouts at Miss Dillan to go away... But she never does, she's quite tough and sometimes very scary."

Meanwhile John managed to shepherd the girl out of the house. Uncle Phil was nowhere to be seen in the garden, and they walked down the street to the crime-scene. Valerie was talking constantly and John often had to turn back her thoughts to the subject. She talked about the circus, about somebody called Spider, about her uncle and her time in the mental institute. What she told about the murder indicated that she really saw something because every detail passed to the traces they found. She gave a good and detailed description but John couldn't even guess what it wasreallyworth.

She only went silent when they were walking back to the Barker's house.

"I'd like to talk to your uncle as well" John said when they stopped in front of the garden.

The girl visibly tensed at this.

"It isn't a good idea…" she said under her nose.

"And why is that?"

"Because... because…" she obviously tried to find a good reason. "…he's rude..."

"I told you: I can't be scared away with a little rudeness."

"But he's..."

"Valerie" John stopped and turned to the girl "does your uncle hurt you in any way?"

"What do you mean?" she seemed frankly confused by the question.

"Does he beat you? Or..." he thought about how to ask this without frightening the girl away. "Does he touch you in a way he shouldn't?"

"No. But… but he's a magician" she said this as if it would explain everything.

"A magician" he repeated in an astonished tone.

"Yes, he can do things…"

"What kind of things?"

"Bad things."

This conversation started to be rather absurd but John couldn't think of the proper question.

"Bad magic" the girl added then without another question.

"Like turning you into a frog?"

"It wouldn't be that bad to be a frog..." she answered to that.

"I don't agree on that one."

Val didn't answer she just opened the garden gate.

"He can summon evil spirits" she whispered then without looking at John.

_Great, more ghosts! _Of course he didn't say it loud.

"I still would like to talk to him" he insisted instead.

Val shrugged and rushed into the house leaving the FBI agent alone in the garden.

"Where were you so long?" John heard Barker's voice from the kitchen.

"She was with me" John said as he walked into the house as well.

"Ah, FBI" his tone was full of disgust.

"Yes. Agent Grant. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Can I say no?"

"Yes, but then I have to summon you officially to the police station!"

"Then ask your questions..." Barker growled.

"Did you hear something during those nights when the murders happened?"

"No."

"Your niece said that she was out of the house. Didn't you wake up when she left?"

"She always walks around! I'm immune to it. If I weren't I were just as crazy as her!"

"So you didn't wake up?"

"Are you deaf or what?"

"Did you?"

"No!" Barker didn't exactly shout but was close to it.

"Were you ever in that house?" John however didn't even raise his voice.

"Nah... why the hell should I have gone there?"

"How long has your niece been living with you?"

"Since she was about twelve… I became her guardian when her mother died. She wasn't total nuts then, at least she was useful that time!"

"You mean during your shows?"

"Yes. So she talked about that too..."

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"I'm not ashamed of my past!" he said almost defiantly.

"I will need to speak to Miss Barker a few more times, so please care for it that she's available!" he said taking no notice of Barker's outbursts.

The man just grunted in answer. John didn't know for sure whether he abused the girl in any way, but he probably won't dare to touch her if he fears the FBI coming back.

He left after this warning and on the street he threw one last look at the haunted house… He had to admit that there was something creepy about that house...

"Great!" he mumbled to himself. "It seems paranoia is infecting!"

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"Did you find out something interesting?" Sam asked when John appeared in the office that they got from the local police for use. She and Bailey were discussing the case and waited for Grace to finish her investigation in the morgue.

"Yes! You can't teach a camel to kiss a dog..."

"What?"

"Never mind" and with a sigh he dropped the big amount of paper on a free desk. "I went to the library. That house is really famous… they have plenty of material about it. I asked the librarian to fax over the list of those who have made some kind of research on the building recently."

"Good idea" Bailey said.

"I'm not so sure. The librarian is at least one hundred. It will take ages till he does it. But until then I try to read these over."

"Give me some of them!" Sam volunteered and John obeyed delighted.

"I'll look after Grace and stop by the computer specialists" announced Bailey and left them alone with their reading material.

For some time they read in silence.

"The house was a brothel from 1897 to 1909" John said and Sam looked up.

"And what happened then?"

"There was a fire and however it didn't make too much damage they closed after it. Nobody wanted to work there…"

"Why is that?"

"Wait a minute" he turned a page and read it over quickly. "This says that there were murders in the area. This is like a Poe-story…"

"I didn't know you were interested in literature" Sam put in playfully.

"I'm very educated in this area, you would be surprised" he smiled but then went back to the story. "There was a mysterious stranger terrifying every decent citizen – just for your information this was cited from the article" he looked at her with a grin. "But seriously, some guy killed the prostitutes around here. They called him the Shadow because the police couldn't catch him and because due to some witnesses he wore a long black coat, a black mask and a black hat. He killed the women and cut out their hearts. The police had a suspect, they even arrested him but there wasn't enough evidence. Then the man they suspected disappeared from here and the murders stopped… but still the prostitutes didn't dare to come back again."

"Interesting. I guess our killer read this story as well and was inspired by it."

"But that man used a knife and not some mysterious weapon…"

"That weapon might not be that mysterious!" this comment was made by Grace who just came into the room.

"Did you finish the autopsy?"

"Yes. They all died to the extreme blood-loss, they suffered when their chest was torn open… and back to the weapon. It is made of metal and I would say it's something like a hook that is sharp and pointed at the same time and has at least three arms…" she imitated it with her hands. "I guess it's home-made."

"So he planned everything in details. Did he need much strength to use this special weapon?"

"Yes. It broke through the rib-cage and made great damage. He practically ripped out the heart. Yes, he definitely needed strength."

The conversation was stopped by Bailey.

"We have the reconstructed portrait of our corpse friend" announced he. "I will fax it over to George, maybe he can find out who this man was."

"Can we see it?" asked Sam.

"Here" he gave the picture over. John stood up and stepped behind Sam to throw a glance at the digital photo.

"Shit!"

Sam looked up and Bailey looked at John as well.

"What?"

"I can't believe it..." he said surprised.

"What?" asked Bailey again, but John went over to his desk and started to rummage around.

"Look at this!" He held up a drawn picture and the resemblance between the two pictures was unmistakable. "This was made after Valerie Barker's description."

"You are not serious!"

"Oh, I am! I don't know how this is possible, but she said that she saw this man in the house."

"I think we should talk again to this Miss Barker!" said Bailey.

"As I see it, there are two possibilities. One: she knows who did this… or she might even be our murderer…"

"I don't think so" John cut in. "She isn't organized enough to plan something like this and as Grace told the killer needs to be quite strong. That girl is short and skinny."

"Okay, she still could know who did it. Or the second option: somebody is playing a game and was wearing a mask during the killing…" she was chewing on her lower lip. "Is there a picture in that book of yours about the suspect?" she asked John.

"Till now I didn't find one, but I'll look after."

"What suspect?" asked Bailey who missed the whole story. Until John was searching Sam told the others about the old murder-case.

"Here it is!" John said triumphantly just when she finished. "And you can make a guess how he looked like."

"I guess he looked like our murderer does" murmured Bailey.

"Exactly" and he showed them the picture.

"So… our murderer is posing as a murderer who died decades ago."

"Or this Miss Barker saw the pictures of the murderer and made up this story."

"Or it is really the ghost of the old murderer..." John said in a grim voice trying to stay serious.

"I think we should take this as the last account!" Bailey said smiling. "Any suggestions for the next step?" he asked then.

John just shrugged, he was still watching the computer animated picture. Sam however was playing with her hair that usually meant that she was having an idea.

"I still think that the house is the key..." she referred to her conversation that they had with Bailey before. "We should concentrate on it because I suppose that our man is hanging around there quite often. He is haunting it if you like."

"You mean we should monitor it continuously?" asked Bailey.

"I mean we should spend the night there..."

"I've always liked horror-movies..." commented John dryly.

"I think this is quite a rational idea" Bailey said.

"I'll collect some stuff then!" volunteered John who was obviously fed up with reading through old articles and reports and was hungry for some action.

"Like your Ghostbuster-equipment?" asked Grace seriously.

"And maybe some hallowed water!" and with that he vanished.

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7


	4. Chapter 4

All right, I know that some time ago I said I would continue this story soon. Well, it's not exactly soon, but it's now. I won't say anything anymore especially as I'm starting my new job Friday and I don't know how much time I'm going to have after that!

So, enjoy and please let me know what you think! Thanks!

**Chapter 4.**

The team's plans were interrupted by George who called and had news about another case. This meant that in the next three hours they were involved in a conference-call with Atlanta and New Jersey. By the time they finished everybody was exhausted and Bailey sent the team back to the hotel to sleep and they decided to make their little trip the next day.

When next afternoon they arrived at the house - as if waiting for them - Valerie Barker sat on the porch. She looked even more dishevelled than the day before.

"She seems quite out of it" John said turning to Sam.

"Yes. Did you find out anything about her medical condition?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I did. I talked to the social worker who's on her case. She told me that Valerie has a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia. She had more relapses in the past years and was treated in different institutes for longer periods. Her uncle isn't much help either."

"It seems to me that her symptoms worsened…" Sam told studying to young woman. She was pacing back and forth on the porch, mumbling under her nose and gesticulating feverishly and she was throwing tearful glances at the front door. "Bailey, I think you should call an ambulance… and stay in the car because you could scare her away at this stage. John, you come with me."

"Really?" the younger agent asked surprised and looked at Bailey for confirmation, their boss just shrugged.

"Sam's the expert."

"She already knows you" the psychologist pointed out.

"If you think so" John said somewhat sceptically.

When they got out of the car Valerie looked up but didn't seem to notice them. She continued her pacing and with her right hand she was rubbing her forehead as if she had a bad headache.

Sam went closer and carefully started to speak to the girl. During her studies she spent some time in psychiatric institutes and though she wasn't a professional in the area she had some idea about handling psychotic patients.

"Valerie? What are you doing here?" she asked.

"He's back…"

"Who's back?"

"He's back" she repeated and this time she looked up but her eyes were distant and confused. "He said that you would come here…"

"Did you take your medication, Valerie?"

Valerie suddenly became more agitated.

"Stay away!" she cried out and Sam stepped backwards. "You can't go into the house!"

"Why? Did something happen in there, Valerie?" John stepped forward and asked worriedly because he could see that there were dark stains on the girl's shirt and jeans. "Are you injured?"

"John, is that blood on her?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yes, I think so" he whispered back.

"He told me not to go in…" she stopped on the top-stair. Now she was slowly rocking back and forth and was still rubbing her temples.

"Were you in the house?"

"No! No! You can't stay here! You will be killed! Can't you understand!" she said desperately.

"Valerie! Please, listen to me, we can help you…" Sam started again.

"Please, please! Why won't you listen… he will kill you… he will rip out your heart… you can't go in there…you can't!"

"We won't go in right now!" John spoke quietly. "Listen… we are from the FBI, do you remember? Tell us what's wrong and we can help you."

"You have to see… you have to listen! Everything goes wrong … he wants you to go in because he needs your blood… you can't give him your blood… please listen to me … please listen…" she was stuttering.

She started pacing back and forth again.

"Spider told me… not to go into the house… I didn't know which house he meant until we moved here… but he knew… he knows everything… please you have to listen to me… you have to listen…"

"Shh… Valerie, it's okay. Everything will be all right. Just come here, and let's talk about it…" Sam tried.

"No… no… Spider told me and he knows…"

"Who's Spider, Valerie? Who are you talking about?" John asked this time and Valerie seemed to react to him, at least she looked him in the eyes.

"He was there… one day … he was sitting on my bed… waiting for me… and he told me the truth… he told me not to come here but I wasn't always like this… no, I wasn't … I forgot it… it was in the kitchen before but I couldn't find them… why couldn't I find them… Doctor Stevenson told me not to forget them…" she wasn't making much sense.

"Are you talking about your medicine, Valerie?" John guessed. "Did you lose your medicine somewhere?"

"They were in the kitchen… but I couldn't find them…Spider told it yes, he did… yes, you did…" she glanced at the ground and it seemed as if she were listening to something. "I know… I know… please let me alone… I'm trying, can't you see?"

"Valerie, who are you talking to?" Sam asked. "Can you see somebody there?"

"It's Spider, it's always him… he's talking to me… all the time… I went home from school and he was there… on my bed… I was scared and he talked to me and told me not to come here but what else could I do? And he became angry at me and didn't come back for a while but he wants to help… because spiders are everywhere they know everything they can see much more with their many eyes… I'm scared of them but they want to help… or not, I'm not sure but they hate the ghosts they hate the spirits and they don't go into the house … they are everywhere and they see everything…"

"Valerie, please stop for a moment, okay? Come with me! Come and we take you to a hospital" Sam said.

"No! I can't go to the hospital… I don't want to go there… he hates me… I don't want to go to him… where can they be, they were in the kitchen… Why couldn't I find them?" she continued desperately.

Sam didn't know how to calm her down because despite all her efforts the girl seemed to get more and more agitated: her words came out in a slur and tears gathered in her eyes.

"I don't know, where they are, Valerie but we can get new ones. You don't have to go to Doctor Stevenson. I'm sure we can find somebody else if you want!" John said.

In that moment the ambulance arrived and Valerie threw a fearful glance at it. John used her wavering attention and edged closer, so that he was standing on the porch too.

"No! You can't go in there!" she cried out and fortuitously she jumped at John.

The attack surprised the agent and he lost his balance which caused both of them to fall down the few steps and they landed in a heap in the front yard. Sam yelped in surprise and from the corner of her eyes he could see Bailey jumping out of the car. The two EMT's were also getting out of the ambulance and started to run in their direction.

Meanwhile John tried to get free of Valerie who seemingly had more strength than Sam would have presumed. It didn't help either that John clearly didn't want to hurt her. But this wish wasn't mutual. Valerie was punching John more times in the chest and when Sam tried to go closer to help John she lashed out backwards and hit Sam quite hard under the left eye. In the meantime the two paramedics and Bailey arrived and together they managed to drag the frantic young woman away. But it wasn't an easy task as she was fighting like a fury, was trashing around in their grasp and was screaming incoherently.

"Go and ask permission from the hospital!" one of the paramedics shouted to the other. "We need to sedate her! Ouch!" he cried out when Valerie managed to kick him on the knee. "Help me keep her immobile!" he called out to Bailey.

John also stood up and tried to help but Sam could see that he had a cut on his forehead and his left hand was covered in blood. The other EMT came running back with a syringe. In the end all three men were needed so that the fourth could inject the sedative in the girl's arm. It took a few moments until the sedative took affect but when Valerie calmed down enough the paramedics put her on a gurney and loaded her into the ambulance.

"Where are you taking her?" John asked before they could get away.

"To St. Helena, it's the closest. I advise you to go there as well."

"Thanks."

With that they hurried away and Sam turned to John.

"I think he was right" she said.

"What?"

"Your hand is bleeding quite strongly."

"Yeah. There are some shards of glass on the ground and I cut my hand" he turned and started to walk to the car but instead of getting in, he opened the boot and after some rummaging he took out a first aid kit.

"What are you doing?" asked Sam.

"I'm looking for some bandages."

"I can see that much, but…"

"I promise you that I'm going to the hospital but before that we have to search the house and we can't let Bailey go in there alone" with his uninjured hand he indicated at their boss who was standing on the porch.

"Can't we call reinforcement?" Sam asked innocently which earned her only a frown. She rolled her eyes but kept the sigh 'Men!' to herself.

After John put some gaze dressing on his hand they both followed Bailey into the house. The creepy feeling Sam felt during her first visit here, came back with twice as much force. Fortunately though they didn't have to look for long. The bloody corpse of a middle aged man lied stretched out on the ground in the middle of the hall. His chest was ripped open as if something had burst out of his inside. A movie came to Sam's mind that Angel made her watch: Alien.

"I'll call the locals" John said simply but the sudden voice sent a shiver down Sam's spine.

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After talking to a doctor and to Grace who was already in the morgue with the new victim, Sam found John in one of the examination rooms, sitting on a gurney. A nurse was cleaning the cut on his forehead. His left hand was already bandaged properly.

"Hey!" she greeted him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. It's not that bad."

"His hand needed five stitches" the nurse piped up.

"Thanks" John said dryly with a frown. "And how's Valerie?"

"She was admitted to the psychiatry. She calmed down after a dose of Haldol. Doctor Stevenson thinks that she stopped taking her medicine about two days ago."

"Could you speak to her?"

"Not really. She's quite out of it. Maybe tomorrow. By the way, you did very well with her out there."

"Thanks. You know, I'm really sorry for her. She's a clever young girl and I bet that she would be very attractive. And then such a terrible illness ruins her life. She will never be able to lead a decent life, won't she?"

"I guess you're right, unfortunately. You know while I was studying I had to spend some time at a mental institute. I saw many schizophrenic patients there and they are often very talented people. It's very sad because after the illness attacks them they lose everything... even the most important thing, namely themselves. It must be terrific."

"Do you think that she has something to do with the murders?"

"She was there…"

"Yeah, and there was blood on her clothes."

"But you don't think that she did it" Sam said.

"No, I don't. Do you?"

"I'm not sure yet what to think. But in my opinion you should be the one to talk to her."

John shot a sceptical look at her.

"Really, John. I think you can strike the right cord with her."

"Yeah, sure. I managed to make her want to pun me into the ground!"

"I would have never thought that such a petite woman could scare you away."

John laughed out.

"You know that I'm not so easy to manipulate… but I do it anyway. Although, if I get a black eye similar to yours, you will have to play a nurse for me."

Sam smiled and shook her head.

"You are impossible… but I think I can do that much for a good case!"

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7


End file.
